


Sins

by AliceinHyruleBastion



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (maybe?) - Freeform, M/M, This is another character study, but I had fun writing this so yeah, it's kinda odd, short thing again i'm sorry y'all I'll get some longer ones up soon, this is from a dream of mine, wingfic(?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 09:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10660116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceinHyruleBastion/pseuds/AliceinHyruleBastion
Summary: Appearances can sometimes perfectly reflect the internal personality to a T, showing a big heart or a cruel mind, but sometimes they can be just the opposite.Sometimes, there are pieces of yourself that you don't understand, or just don't seem to fit, yet somehow... they find their perfect match within another's soul.





	Sins

**Author's Note:**

> Vague description is vague again... sorry.
> 
> This is just a word jumble that kinda escaped from me from a dream I once had, where it was completely silent spare the words "Don't touch them, they're still new". The gist of the thing here is with Bo and Keiji, seeing the horrors of death scars a person in more ways than one, and somehow manifest and painful wings hewn straight from the flesh itself. So from that... this sorta came into being, I guess?  
> (If your curious, my dream ended with Akaashi racing towards a falling Bo into the sea far far below... but I didn't implement that into this.)
> 
> I apologize for the long-ish note, and I hope you enjoy this!  
> As always, comments and critiques are highly appreciated!

Broad shoulders lined in confidence, tall stature nothing short of friendliness, and the matching voice of warmth and home that speaks of many different volumes. He exudes joy and sometimes foolish hope, and hides the piece of himself that he's ashamed of: the part that snaps into crippling melancholy and anger, that he believes poisons the air and people around him, so he hides that tiny piece behind blinding smiles and that booming laugh: a tiny sliver of ice in a fireball of a heart. That personality of his is the first thing people notice, right after, of course, his ivory hair laced in stripes of black, swirling into the horns of a predatory bird, and golden eyes lit from the inside from a lethal cocktail of mirth and happiness. His face is open, open as a book that speaks as plainly as the words on his face, open and understanding. However, he bears the weight of death, bears that terrible beauty: stunning feathers of black and white, intermingled as they stretch out, full and wide, flashing in the sun. These wings stunning as they rise above him in a shrieking crescendo of ebony and ivory-stained pain, his head hung seemingly guiltily as he reveals this weighted secret. And there he stands, wings held high, head bowed low in the dying light, knees to ground: a gesture of raw grief and sadness. He is no more an angel than he is demon, for he is neither- simply one who bears the weight of death upon his shoulders. 

He is simply a boy, a boy named Bokuto Koutarou.

 

Simplicity intertwined in hidden color. That's what he is. Cool, quiet, unearthly as the wind stirring across a silent lake. But, the wind can also whip into a storm, shrieking and twisting in lighting, that dark mirror-lake shattered in the frenzy. He is peaceful and seemingly uncaring, still to the point of being cold, yet hidden deep in that dark lake is a spark of warmth, and here he holds his love and joy and color away from the winds that could rip it away. He is small and willowy, lined in composure and stillness, so different that others stand away from him. Dark hair that swirls from the pale skin of his face as if ruffled by that wind inside, and eyes the color of an endless, quiet forest set into a face of an unchanging sea; barely anything ripples across those features. And yet, sometimes, that tiny spark can be broken through that still sea, be it a tiny smile in a lilt of his lips, a laugh that leaps like a fish from the surface, surprise and joy that warms that cold skin like the sun, all barely noticeable except to the eyes of the keen, for it is simply a tiny shift- a tiny touch up like a finishing stroke to painting, his missing pieces. That warmth wrapped in a cold, windy exterior just needs a source of great warmth to bring it out. His distance from emotions and people stem from a single source- the curse upon his back. The curse that is feathers that spread in spiraling ink the color of night, of demons, of shadows. The black the spreads open like an obsidian waterfall, the end tips of his wings the dark green of forests lost in stories and legends. The color of death. Here he stands, above a boy in newfound grief whose wings still ache and burn from the pain of which they sprung, on his knees as if begging, as if in defeat, spread and head bowed in shame like he's revealing a dirty secret. And so he reveals the black staining his own shoulders, and hesitantly spreads those wings of molten night and emerald above his head in a sign of understanding, empathy- in a sign of "Don't worry. It's ok, I'm here too." These are the silent words of Akaashi Keiji.

 

Golden eyes look up in surprise, their normal brightness dimmed by the black above him, the eclipse highlighting his confusion- before both relief and empathy crash into them. The words "I'm so sorry," and "Thank you," stain his face simultaneously, unknowingly to him. And so, the other boy reaches out a hand to his friend, and pulls him up, pulls him back to his warm joy so familiar and missed by those around him. 

These two, though both weighed down by the chains of Death's feathers, have each other to rely on, for the best way to trudge through grief is in the hand of a friend. 


End file.
